


The Bet

by ladylaufeyson1



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Sifki - Freeform, warfrost - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 05:37:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17115434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladylaufeyson1/pseuds/ladylaufeyson1
Summary: Fandral bets Sif that she can't get a date to the ball with the insufferable prince Loki; the only eligible man in Asgard who shows no interest in her. Sif agrees, getting much more than she had bargained for along the way...





	The Bet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [a_ufo_party](https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_ufo_party/gifts).



> Hello! I ran with your "bet" prompt! Thanks for all the great ideas. Hope you enjoy! Merry Mistletoe!

She was going to lose the bet. 

It didn’t matter that every man in the realm seemed to vie for her affections, for Fandral had (quite purposely) picked the one man who did not. Never, in their many years of being acquainted, had Prince Loki shown any remote interest in her. While tolerant of her presence due to her friendship with his brother Thor, Loki was mostly cold and distant. She’d have an easier time seducing a bilgesnipe.  

Still, Sif was never one to go down without a fight, and the stakes were high. She’d be damned if she was stuck doing Fandral’s stable chores for two months, damned if she had to hear him boast from Asgard to Vanaheim about how the fair Lady Sif was mercilessly rejected, by the _prince_ no less. It wasn’t that Sif was vain and truly believed _every_ man sought after her. But when challenged, there was only ever one choice for her - greet it and defeat it. When all was said and done, Fandral would be doing _her_ stable chores and, most importantly, eating his words.

“How long do I have?” she whispered, peering over at the raven-haired prince who sat on a nearby bench in the palace gardens, his head in a book.

“A fortnight,” Fandral smiled gleefully, taking an obnoxiously loud bite of his apple.

“A _fortnight?_ ” she exclaimed loudly, followed by the shushes of her friends. “No. One month. This will be no small feat.”

“Three weeks,” he continued, a little too proudly. “I think we’ll know if he has any interest by then.”

“I think we will know sooner,” Hogun chimed in, grimly.

“And what will satisfy your terms?” she said, crossing her arms in annoyance. “For him to kneel before the entire kingdom and profess his love? _Dearest Sif_ ,” she mocked, in her most arrogant, Loki-esque tone. “ _You are the most beautiful, most entrancing girl in all the nine realms. I’ve loved you since we were young. You’ve stolen my heart._ ”

Fandral roared with laughter. “Can you fathom him saying such a thing?”

“No,” Sif spat as she played with her glaive, thoroughly fed up with her friends. “I cannot.”

“The ball is in three weeks time,” Volstagg interjected, meticulously peeling the skin from an orange. “Perhaps if she secures him as an escort?”

“Ah, yes,” Fandral continued, thoughtfully. “If Loki accompanies you to the ball, that will suffice.”

“Easy enough,” Sif said cockily, instantly regretting her choice and tone of words.

“And… a kiss. Only _he_ must initiate, and _we_ must bear witness to it.”

“Fine,” she said through clenched teeth. Why in the nine realms was she agreeing to such a daunting task? She had always found the prince attractive - _incredibly_ attractive - but his arrogance and sour disposition usually ruined it.

“I do not have a good feeling about this,” Hogun stated, shaking his head solemnly.

“Nor do I,” Sif said, startled as she looked up to find Loki’s eyes locked on hers.

He immediately looked away.

 

* * *

 

Sif’s first attempt at having more than a ten second conversation with Loki was nothing short of pathetic. She found it curious that she knew where he was throughout the course of her day, most frequently passing him in the cloisters after her sparring practice. If she was going to attempt this, it had to look as organic as possible. She couldn’t show up just anywhere he was and expect him to be anything less than suspicious of her. Loki was many things, but he was far from stupid.

“Good day, Loki,” Sif said nonchalantly, pretending to barely notice him as he sauntered past the bench she sat upon.

“Lady Sif,” he replied without looking back, paying her little mind.

_Damnit._

“How are you?” she said as she stood, quickening her pace to catch up with him. So much for playing it cool.

“Fine,” he replied curtly, clearly not wanting to chat.

“Where - are you headed?”

“Is there something in particular you need?” he snapped, stopping abruptly.

Sif nearly slammed into him. She opened her mouth to angrily retort, but found herself taken aback by the intensity of his proximity. His eyes were bluer than the sky behind him, his hair as black as the night that was to come, his porcelain skin as pale and flawless as the marble beneath them. As he loomed above her, narrowing his eyes down at her in pure annoyance, their faces just inches apart, Sif felt something awaken in her. Something unexpected. Something _most_ inconvenient.

“No, nothing, I just…”

“Then I bid you farewell,” he said brusquely, turning on his heel to leave.

She closed her eyes and breathed heavily, grateful for the growing distance now between them.

This was _not_ the plan.

 

* * *

 

Their second meeting wasn't much better.

Sif decided that she would have to take a different, drastic approach to get Loki’s attention, so she decided to forgo her armour one evening, put on a long, velvet, low-cut maroon frock and actually fuss with her hair - something she _never_ did. She had no idea who or what he found attractive, but he had hardly ever seen her in anything other than her metal, so it was certainly worth a try.  

She found him in a remote corner of the library (so much for her plan of not stalking him to places) and proceeded to peruse a shelf not far from where he sat. After a solid half hour of pretending to read some painfully boring saga about Ymir, she glanced over to find him still blissfully unaware of her presence. She watched in an almost a trance-like state as he ran his fingers through his slicked-back locks, turning the pages with such care and precision, furrowing his brow in thought. It was inexplicably attractive, much to her annoyance. Most of the men who pined after Sif weren’t even remotely interested in books. Then again, Loki was not most men. And he certainly was not pining after her.

She repeatedly coughed and sighed - _loudly_ \- still, he didn't look up. Just as she was about to thoroughly humiliate herself by attempting to speak to him again, several of her fellow soldiers entered, their boisterous voices sharply intruding on the peace and quiet of the library.

“Erik, Bjorn,” Sif smiled, getting up from her chair a little too eagerly to greet them. Their presence, though admittedly loud and obnoxious, was most welcome in furthering her plan.

“Lady Sif,” the tall, muscular blonde known as Erik spoke, beaming at her. “You look well.”

“Indeed, _very_ well,” the shorter, less attractive man spoke, shamelessly looking her up and down. “What is the occasion?”

“Trying out gowns for the ball, I suppose,” she smiled, peeking over their shoulders at Loki. Still nothing. “Will you both be attending?”

“Yes. I’ve asked Lorelei,” Erik replied, his smile broadening. “Was so pleased she said yes.”

“And I Inga,” the other one said, sounding a bit regretful about his choice. “And you, my lady?”

“Still waiting to be asked, I’m afraid,” she said, rather loudly. She was making a spectacle of herself and she knew it. It was all so pathetic, so out of character for her - but there was no backing down now.

“Oh,” the short one bemoaned, disheartened. “If I had known I would not have asked -”

“Do not be absurd. You two will have a wonderful time,” Sif quickly interjected, not wanting to give the puny cretin the opportunity. Still, she’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy the flattery, what with Loki well within earshot. 

“I suppose. But that _dress_ on you...”

Loki slammed his book shut. The sound echoed loudly off the high walls, making the three of them jump.

“This _was_ once a quiet place to study,” he said irritably as he stood, shaking his head.

“Loki!” Bjorn asked gleefully, paying no mind to his murderous tone as he walked over and slapped him amicably on the back. “Have you a date for the ball?”

“I have no plans to attend,” he said quietly, placing several books back on the shelf. "I do not enjoy the frivolity of such events."

“Why not escort the Lady Sif?”

Loki glanced over just as Sif looked up and their eyes finally met.

She felt her skin flush as his gaze fell over her, giving her the exact reaction she was hoping to get earlier. What she felt when he noticed her, _really_ noticed her, made the whole ridiculous evening worthwhile. For it was in that precise moment that she realized she _did_ wish to go to the ball with him, her stupid bet be damned. At the beginning of the week, he was nothing more than a conquest - an insufferable git who deserved every bit of their back talk. Since then, nothing interesting transpired between them in conversation. He was still rude, irritable, hadn’t changed. But she knew one thing - Loki had never looked at her in such a way. And it was intoxicating.

“I am certain the lady would prefer better company,” he finally replied, nodding his head as he tore his gaze away from hers to take his leave. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Sif opened her mouth to say something, _anything,_ but the right words never came. Had she merely imagined his attraction?

Loki stalked out of the library.

 

* * *

 

Their third meeting was different.

Sif had taken the afternoon off from sparring to walk in the palace gardens and clear her mind. She was angry with herself, angry for acting like complete fool in front of Loki. She was even more upset about the fact that she clearly had some sort of _feelings_ for him. Then again, she had always found him attractive yet they hardly ever interacted. Had those feelings been there all along? Either way, it was obvious now that the bet wasn't such a good idea. It seemed cruel and inane and ironically, _she_ would end up being the one hurt by it. Luckily, she could cease her idiocy now and no further damage would be done.

Suddenly, she heard voices far off in the distance and looked up to find Loki and Amora walking along the stone path in her direction. Before she knew what she was doing or why she was even doing it, Sif lifted herself up into the branches of an old tree, hiding herself under its greenery. She prayed the two would pass by quickly, but she soon learned that was not to be, as they stopped to sit on the bench just below her.

“Erik said you might go with Sif,” she heard Amora say, immediately in disbelief. They were talking about _her?_

“That lumbering oaf doesn’t know what he’s saying,” Loki huffed as he crossed his arms.

“But you think she’s beautiful. You’ve said so before.”

Sif’s eyes widened and she covered her mouth. Her heart began to race. He had said _what?_

“Find me a man in the kingdom who doesn’t think so,” he said quietly, picking up a small stone between his feet and tossing it.

“Yes, but you’re the prince, Loki. I’d say you have a slight advantage over _most_ men.”

“The odd, quiet, less attractive prince, yes. I’m sure she’d much rather go with Thor.”

 _Thor?_ Sif mouthed angrily. Rumors of a romance between her and Thor had plagued the kingdom for years and gods, had she grown tired of it.

“There are many women in the kingdom who don’t agree with that assessment of yourself, I assure you,” Amora said, reaching over to take hold of Loki’s hand.

Sif’s eyes instinctively narrowed. She had always liked Amora, found her kind and amicable, but the sight of her touching Loki spun her into a heated frenzy. She tried to jump down but her foot caught in a branch and she fell, landing directly on her head on the grass in front of them.

“Oh!” Amora screamed loudly, like a draugr had dropped out of the sky.

“Sif,” Loki whispered, immediately kneeling at her side. “Are you alright?”

“You think I’m beautiful,” Sif said with a dazed smile as she rolled over, fuzzy images of Loki fading in and out of her vision.

“I think you’ve hit your head quite hard,” he said quietly, pushing her hair back from her face to look for any signs of bleeding.

“ _Ow_ ,” she said, as she moved her hand to her temples. As she pulled them away, Loki saw her fingertips speckled with blood.

“Fetch Eir,” he said frantically to Amora, his hand instinctively moving to hold Sif's.

“But…”

“NOW!” he roared, pointing towards the palace.

As he pushed more of her hair aside, he found the wound and sighed. It was much smaller than he had initially feared.

“Be still,” he said, placing his hand over her temple. “I’m going to attempt to heal you.”

“ _You_ think  _I'm_ beautiful,” she repeated in disbelief with a small laugh, her eyes closing peacefully at his touch.

Loki ignored her, trying to focus all of his energy on conjuring a healing light from within. After a few moments passed, green sparks began to emanate from his hands. He could feel the bleeding stop and the skin start to regenerate, becoming smooth once more.

Suddenly, his head began to hurt and her memories flooded his vision. At that moment, Sif must have been thinking about the other day in the library, for there he was, standing there, gawking at her in her dress like a buffoon. He heard nothing but the sound of her labored breaths, the pounding beats of her heart. He felt her nervousness, her humiliation, her - elation? There was, much to his surprise, no loathing. No sign of disgust.

“Forgive me,” he whispered as he broke away, thoroughly embarrassed by the fact that he had looked into her memories without permission, her emotions as well, though she would be entirely unaware of the latter. “I cannot always control it.”

“I never knew you could do that,” she whispered, suddenly feeling much more clear-headed. She couldn't explain exactly how, but she knew he had just seen her memories. She feebly pushed herself up into a sitting position and stared at him in awe. "Loki, that's _incredible_."

"Are you feeling better?" he swallowed, moving back on the grass to distance himself from her, in complete disbelief at what he had just felt. Sif _actually_ liked him?

Sif reached up and touched the side of her face. "It's completely healed. You're brilliant."

"I wouldn't go that far."

"Loki, I -"

"Sif, would you - care to accompany me to the ball?"

Her mouth dropped. Had she heard his words correctly, or had she hit her head harder than she thought?

"As friends, of course," he continued, gesturing somewhat nervously with his hands. 

"Is that what we are now?" she replied, her heart pounding beneath her chest as she raised an eyebrow suspiciously at him. "Friends?"

"I'm not sure. I am only asking in the hopes that you'll cease your stalking."

" _I_ am not stalking _you,"_  she said, thoroughly appalled as she straightened herself. "And besides, I thought you didn't enjoy - what was it - the _frivolity_ of such events?"

"I allow myself to indulge in lighthearted festivities every now and then."

"You could have fooled me."

“If you wished to go, you could have spoken plainly,” Loki smirked, continuing to push every possible button of hers. “No need to throw yourself at me from a tree.”

"You truly are insufferable," she replied, huffing as she stood to walk away from him in a desperate attempt to hide the embarrassment on her face. Had she been _that_ obvious?

"Is that a yes then?"

Sif stopped in her tracks. Was this actually happening?

"Fine," she finally replied nonchalantly, smiling to herself as she walked off.

 

* * *

 

“You did it,” Fandral said, raising a drink at the refreshments table in her honor. “Well, _part_ of it, at least."

"I should have never agreed to this," Sif declared, looking forlorn. "It was wrong of me."

"Has the Lady Sif developed feelings for the prince after all?" Volstagg inquired nosily, running his fingers excitedly along a bowl of truffles.

"It doesn't matter what I feel. He made it clear that we were merely coming as _friends,_ " she replied. She knew she needed to tell Loki about the bet, lest he hear about it from someone else, but she also knew that if she did her true feelings for him would also have to come out. It was certainly a conundrum. But she'd rather risk her feelings than his.

"Well," Volstagg continued with a sly grin. "I'd be willing wager that before the night is over, you'll get your kiss."

"Do what you must," she whispered, feeling guilty for even continuing to discuss the charade. "I want no further part in it."

"My lady," Loki said softly as he came up from behind her. "May I have this dance?"

Sif jumped at his voice, nearly dropping her drink on the floor. Loki caught it gracefully and placed it down upon a banquet table.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his brow furrowed with concern.

"Yes," she said, nervously feigning a smile as she turned to face him. "And yes. Though I would speak with you after."

Loki nodded and offered her his hand. She held it tightly as they stepped out onto the floor. As his hand slid securely around her waist and their eyes met, Sif felt herself relax. For as nervous as she was to be in his arms, nothing had ever felt more right. She only wished he felt the same.

At some point, crowds of people had gathered around to watch the prince and the most beautiful girl in all of Asgard twirl effortlessly around the room. When the music ended, the two stood in the center of the room. Loki took her hand and dropped to his knees.

"Dearest Sif," he said quietly, gingerly brushing her fingers with his thumb, his eyes never leaving hers. "You are the most beautiful, most entrancing girl in all the nine realms. I have loved you since we were young."

Sif's smile fell. Her stomach dropped and her eyes began to water as she listened to him recite the _exact_ words she had spoken to her friends the day she had made the bet. He knew. He knew all along and yet, said nothing. 

Without another word, Loki stood and pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ears. He brushed her cheek with his hand and leaned in slowly, gently placing his lips upon hers.

She froze, unable to comprehend what was happening. The way he kissed her... soft, yet firm. Tender, yet wanting. It was beautiful. _H_ _e_ was beautiful... but it was far too perfect and good to be true. Certainly, this was payback.

"You've stolen my heart," he suddenly whispered, giving her a small, arrogant smirk.

Sif immediately broke away, and proceeded to run.

 

* * *

 

She ran down the palace halls as fast as she could until she reached a small, private drawing room, lit only by a roaring fire. She dropped to the ground before the hearth, her dress billowing out in every direction, and sobbed uncontrollably for what seemed like hours before the door finally opened and Loki stepped in.

"Sif," Loki said, immediately rushing to her side. "What is it?"

"I cannot look at you," she said with a muffled voice, burying her face in her hands as she continued to cry.

"I wish you would," he said with a small smile, gently reaching for her hands to pry them away from her face.

Sif let him take them from her, but she could still not meet his eyes.

"You must think me a monster for doing such a thing."

"A date and a kiss to get out of stable chores? I've done far worse for much less. It's brilliant, quite honestly."

Sif began to cry louder.

"What is it," he said softly, squeezing her hands.

"I do not know what I am more afraid of," she spoke, wiping her face repeatedly. "That you believe my feelings insincere or that yours are."

"Mine are not," he said seriously, his jaw tense. "I thought I was being clever. Forgive me."

"What you said out there..."

"I meant every word."

"Loki, do not play with my emotions any longer. I cannot bear it."

"I am not," he said, lifting her chin with his finger so that her eyes would meet his. "Sif, you _are_ the most beautiful girl I've ever known. But you are also kind, brave, and clever, which makes you even more so. And I have loved you. For a very, _very_ long time."

"But you never talk to me!"

"And I am a fool for that. I thought you fancied Thor. I didn't wish to get in the way."

"And I am a fool. For thinking you were a cold, insufferable git."

"To be fair, I am all of those things," he said with a smirk, wiping another tear from eye. "Please, don't cry."

"Loki, you must believe that I care for you."

"I do. I felt it."

"Felt it?"

Loki sighed, finding the admission somewhat difficult. He should have told her then and there what had occurred, sparing her this upset. "When I looked into your memories and saw us in the library, I... felt what you felt. It happens, with the visions. I knew then. Forgive me. I should have said something."

"Oh," Sif replied thoughtfully, not at all angry but relieved by the knowledge. "How did you know? What I had said the day the bet was made..."

"You were all being _ridiculously_ loud," he said, rolling his eyes in annoyance. "Believe me, I was trying _not_ to hear. "

 Sif smiled. Loki breathed a sigh of relief.

"So you see," he said, bringing her hand slowly to his lips and placing a chaste kiss upon it. "There is nothing to be sorry for."

"I suppose so."

"Shall we return to the festivities and give Fandral the bad news then?" he said, reaching up to lightly stroke her face as she inched closer to him. "Or would you... rather stay here?"

"I'd like to stay," she whispered, stopping inches from his lips, desperately longing to feel them against hers once more. "Just a while longer."


End file.
